Henry Percy, with a body of men superior in number to that of Douglas. He had already crossed the Reed water, and was advancing towards the left flank of the Scottish army. Douglas, not choosing to receive the assault in that position, drew his men out of the camp, and, with a degree of military skill, which could scarcely have been expected when his forces were of such an undisciplined character, he altogether changed the position of the army, and presented his troops with their front to the advancing English. Hotspur, in the meantime, marched his squadrons through the deserted camp, where there were none left but a few servants and stragglers of the army. The interruptions, which the English troops met with, threw them into disorder, when the moon arising, showed them the Scottish army, which they had supposed to be retreating, drawn up in complete order and prepared to fight. The battle commenced with the greatest fury; for Percy and Douglas were the two most distinguished soldiers of their time, and each army trusted in the courage and talents of their commanders, whose names were shouted on either side.

The Scots, who were outnumbered, were at length about to give way, when Douglas, their leader, caused his banner to advance, attended by his best men. He himself shouting his war-cry of "Douglas!" rushed forward, clearing his way with the blows of his battleaxe, and breaking into the very thickest of the enemy. He fell at length under three mortal wounds. Had his death been observed by the enemy, the event would probably have decided the battle against the Scots; but the English only knew, that some brave man-at-arms had fallen. Meantime, the other Scottish nobles pressed forward and found their general dying among several of his faithful esquires and pages who lay slain around. A stout priest, called William of North Berwick, the chaplain of Douglas, was protecting the body of his wounded patron with a long lance.

"How fares it, cousin?" said Sinclair, the first Scottish knight who came up to the expiring leader.

"Indifferently," answered Douglas; "but blessed be God, my ancestors have died in fields of battle, not on down beds. I sink fast; but let them still cry my warcry, and conceal my death from my followers. There was a tradition in our family, that a dead Douglas should win a field, and I trust it will be this day accomplished."

The nobles did as he had enjoined; they concealed the Earl's body and again rushed on to the battle, shouting "Douglas! Douglas!" louder than before. The English were weakened by the loss of the brave brothers, Henry and Ralph Percy, both of whom were made prisoners, fighting most gallantly, and almost no man of note amongst the English escaped death or captivity.

Sir Henry Percy became the prisoner of Sir Hugh Montgomery, who obliged him, for ransom, to build a castle for him at Penoon in Ayrshire. The battle of Otterburn was disastrous to the leaders on both sidesPercy being made captive, and Douglas slain on the field. It has been the subject of many songs and poems, and the great historian Froissart says that, one other action only excepted, it was the best fought battle of that warlike time.-Sir W. Scott, "Tales of a Grandfather.”

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a golden pound
To row us o'er the ferry.'

"Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

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"And fast before her father's men

Three days we've fled together, For, should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then, who will cheer my bonny bride, When they have slain her lover?" Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, 'I'll go, my chief—I'm ready:

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It is not for your money bright,

But for your winsome lady:

"And, by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry:

So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.”

By this the storm grew loud арасе,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And, in the scowl of Heav'n, each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer:

"Oh! haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her,

When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing.

For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
"Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,-
My daughter!--oh! my daughter!"

'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return or aid preventing:

The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.-Campbell.

ON the 2nd of September, 1832, intelligence was brought to the Collector of Tinavelly that some wild elephants had appeared in the neighbourhood. A hunting-party was immediately formed, and a large number of native hunters were engaged. We left the

tents, on horseback, at half-past seven o'clock in the morning, and rode three miles to an open spot, flanked on one side by rice fields, and on the other by a jungle. After waiting some time, Captain B. and myself walked across the rice fields to the shade of a tree. When here, we heard the trumpet of an elephant; we rushed across the rice fields up to our knees in mud, but all in vain, though we came upon the track of one of the animals, and then ran five or six hundred yards into the jungle. After various false alarms, and vain endeavours to discover the objects of our chase, the Collector went into the jungle, and Captain B. and myself into the bed of the stream, where we had seen the tracks; and here it was evident the elephants had passed to and fro. Disappointed and impatient, we almost determined to give up the chase and go home; but shots fired just before us re-animated us, and we proceeded and found that the Collector had just fired twice. Off we went through forest, over ravine, and through streams, till at last, at the top of the ravine, the elephants were seen. This was a moment of excitement! We were all scattered. The Collector had taken the middle path, Captain B., some huntsmen, and myself the left, and other hunters scrambled down that to the right. this moment I did not see anything but what I took to be a native hut roofed with leaves; but after advancing a few yards, the huge head of an elephant shaking above the jungle, within ten yards of us, burst suddenly upon my view. Captain B. and a hunter were just before me; we all fired at the same moment, and in so direct a line that the percussion cap of my gun hit the hunter, whom I thought at first I had shot. This accident, though it proved slight, a little troubled me. The great excitement occasioned by seeing for the first time a wild beast at liberty, and in a state of nature, produced a sensation of hope and fear that was intense

At